


go ahead, hit me

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blowjobs, Boxer Liam, Boxing, M/M, Smut, liam beating zayn at boxing is really hot, theres not really much else, training zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:41:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2222688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn gets a new teaching instructor he isn't too fond of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	go ahead, hit me

**Author's Note:**

> so this was inspired cuz i saw a gifset of zayn boxing on tumblr and i just really wanted a zayn/liam fic where liam can totally overpower zayn and then this happened.

Zayn doesn't technically need the lessons, the boxing lessons, he can run a lot faster than people think and he could easily get away from trouble if need be. He's only ever gotten into a fight once, and it wasn't even physical, it was more mental than anything, quite degrading on his manhood. His smoking though, and drinking, and who he's friends with, it scares his mum, literally frightens her, and she thinks he's going through a phase that can be changed. So she figured the solution would be getting him a therapist, and he recommended weekly boxing training to get out all of his life frustrations, whatever the fuck that means.

 He was so pissed, so fucking pissed when his mum first told him that instead of going to his gigs on Friday nights he had to go to some dingy, shitty old warehouse and work out with a trainer. A boxing trainer. Boxing? He doesn't even do P.E, what makes his mum think going to boxing is going to help? Like, physical action isn't going to change him, it's only going to make him angrier. Maybe fitter, but angrier nonetheless. 

Now every Monday, Wednesday and Friday he has training at The O (Mark is fucking ridiculous, named it and everything). It's a big place, a warehouse that used to be a YMCA center, but closed down because there was mold in the walls and rats in the air vents. His trainer Mark bought it and fixed it up though, and although it isn't perfect, it's nearly a second home to Zayn now. His first few lessons weren't terrible, Mark nice but stern, showing him exercises that stretched his muscles and prepared him for what was to come. Although it didn't come, before Mark moved off to America, the bastard, and Zayn was reassigned a new instructor. Obviously Zayn was pissed about that, too, and now he's supposed to show up to these meetings pure as light? Fuck that. 

 It's raining outside when he leaves for his session, only a light drizzle, but pouring hard enough Zayn's shoulders are soaked by the time he gets there. He sees a bunch of teenagers all huddled around some guys truck, and it isn't them that strikes him, no, it's the fucking umbrella they have set up in the back of it. He rolls his eyes and hunches his shoulders even further, ducking his head to avoid any eye contact with the people lingering about. It's a place for lots of people, gymnasts, boxers, wrestlers, footie players, anyone who wants to sign up can. He has his own special room away from everyone though, has his own heavy bag and everything. It's quite nice, and it's all because of Mark. Mark, who is no longer his instructor, no longer his guy, and instead he has to learn actual boxing moves from some dude he doesn't even know.

He sets his change of clothes down in the corner when he gets in, making sure the room is empty and the door is closed before he shrugs out of his jumper. His basketball shorts are low down to his knees, tied tight around his waist, and his black muscle shirt is already clinging to his back because the London weather isn't very impressive this time around. It smells of mold and musk in here, but it's something Zayn's become accustomed to over time. He shuffles over to the little pantry in the room and grabs two sandbags, dropping them onto the ground next to the ring and then he drops onto his back. He does fifty sit ups with the bags on his toes to keep them down, darts around the room for an hour, and then gets his gloves and punches the heavy bag until his arms absolutely ache and he's dripping sweat.

 As he gets up he tugs his phone from his bag, sees that his new trainer is two hours late, and it only pisses him off even more than having to finish exams in less than a week. He runs his hands through his sweat and gel slicked hair, eyes darting to the door when it opens. A man who doesn't look any older than him enters, a duffle bag over his shoulder and the attire on his broad shoulders very similar to Zayn's.

"Excuse me," he starts, dropping the warm water he'd been drinking back onto his bag, "this is a private room." He says, and the man stops, raising an eyebrow.

"You Zayn Malik?" The man asks, and he crosses his arms over his chest, licking his lips.

"Who's asking?" He asks.

He's a bit impatient, because he has to get this done before this new instructor gets here. Maybe, if he misses this guy all week, he won't have to worry about getting him to come back. 

The guy drops his duffle bag onto the rink and then walks forward, close enough Zayn drops his arms and balls his fists, just in case. Only the guy extends his hand and offers a smile.

"I'm Liam Payne, your new boxing trainer." He says it smoothly, and Zayn takes a moment to take him in. He's got brown hair, slicked back in a quiff much like his own, and his eyes are a deep brown, like chocolate. They're deep, very deep, Zayn feels sort of insecure with his eyes boring so deeply into his own. His lips are plump, pink and slick, and it's in that moment Liam chooses to lick them. His jaw is defined, curved and cut beautifully, and he's got a birthmark Zayn sort of wants to lick. His shoulders are broad, and his arms are thick, biceps as big as Zayn's neck. He has to swallow around a sudden dry throat, nodding.

"Okay. You know you were uh, you were supposed to be here at four, right?" He asks, and he raises an eyebrow when Liam's head drops and he lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck. How  _cliche._

Liam clears his throat. "Yeah I uh- something came up. And there was um, traffic." He nods, dropping his hands to his sides. "I thought I'd come anyways, and if you were still here I could give you my basics, show you how I work." He explains, and Zayn nods, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Okay, so, you show up to our session two hours late and you expect me to stay longer just to listen to what you have to say?"

He listens. 

*

 

The next month is.. exhausting. Wild. Exhilerating. Tiring. Liam works him nonstop, has him changing his schedule to Monday's, Tuesday's, Wednesday's and Friday's, and although Zayn is constantly tired, he's appreciative. His abs are coming in, his tattoos look fucking fantastic, and all in all, he's really beginning to enjoy boxing. Liam has him doing a lot of weird shit he's never heard of, punching bags and balled up sheets and even had him destroy a TV, once. (With his gloves on of course, safety first.) He's had him bending his arms in weird ways, stretching his neck in weird ways, running with weights in weird ways, Liam's had him doing a lot of weird things, basically. He's also learned his love for a lot of new things. 

He's learned how much he loves to be physical, how good it makes him feel, both mentally and physically. He knows action isn't everyone's way of feeling good, but getting up and rehearsing his moves and getting better and better makes him feel brilliant. Liam pushes him a lot too, asked for his number after about a week of meeting up and constantly texts him, reminds him of their new move and then pushes and pushes until he's mastered it. It's a good thing though, because so many times has Zayn wanted to give up, just delete Liam's number and move out of London, but he doesn't. He doesn't because he isn't stupid, he knows how good this has been for him.

Another thing he's learned he loves, is Liam. Well, okay maybe you can't call it love just yet, but he's so damn fond of the younger lad he doesn't know how he lived his life before without him. He gives him warmups and walks him through each move, shows him the exercises from before and tells him how to do them without overworking his muscles, is his saving grace when he doesn't understand how his knuckles are so bruised when he's wearing the gloves. Turns out he wasn't adding enough powder, and the contact was rubbing his skin raw. Liam meets his parents and has his mum cry on his shoulder, repeatedly thank him and offer him more in pay, and eventually they start texting more about cats and swollen lips rather than his workout ethics. He finds himself more interested in how Liam's biceps feel against him rather than how they look, and he's staring at the other man's mouth a lot more than he'd care to admit.

He knows it's stupid, having a crush on his trainer, but it isn't really his fault when Liam goes around shirtless and sweating a majority of the time, now is it?

They're meeting up on Saturday, Zayn rushing towards the warehouse because Liam said it was an emergency and it's early in the morning, which is quite unusual for the younger man. He tries not to worry himself, keeps his pajama pants on and throws on a random hoodie, the chill still sneaking up under his sweater as he hurries into the building. He's not brought anything for a session, and when he bursts into the room to find Liam already sweating, going at a bag like hell, he frowns and lets himself breathe for a moment.

"Everything alright? You said it was an emergency," he says, and Liam doesn't face him, just steadies the bag and nods towards the dressing room. 

"Get dressed." He says in a gruff voice, raising his arms and hunching his shoulder, about to start up again when he speaks.

"Why? What's the emergency? It's nine a.m, Liam, if you aren't dying, I'm going back home and I'm going back to bed." He says, and he doesn't mean to sound annoyed, especially not with Liam, but his sleep is precious and not to be wasted. 

Liam huffs and whirls around, staring back at Zayn with hard chocolate eyes. He's panting, sweat lining his brow and the thick line of his shoulders, and he can't help but watch as sweat trails from his cheek and drops onto his chest, disappearing into the collar of his tank top. "I said go get dressed, Zayn." He grunts, and Zayn crosses his arms over his chest stubbornly.

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's up. It's Saturday, I could be sleepi-" He's cut off when Liam drops down from the stage and stalks right up to him, not leaving an inch to fucking  _breathe._ He smells strong, like a mix of some expensive cologne and musk, clean sweat rolling down his temple. He's got a twitch in his jaw Zayn's never noticed, and his eyes are ablaze and defiant.

"I'm gonna give you three minutes," his voice is so deep, so low, "to get into that dressing room and get ready because if you don't I'll kick your ass in your nighties, I swear to god." He breathes, and he slightly tilts his chin to give himself that dominating look, and it works. Only Zayn's a little overwhelmed, because Liam just threatened him and said nighties in the same sentence and he's confused whether or not to laugh or cry. Or both.

He opens his mouth to speak, his voice sounding much smaller than Liam's. "But-"

"Go!" Liam shouts, and Zayn scrambles around him like a smacked puppy, turning to flash him a half confused and half hurt look. Only he's still facing the door, and he doesn't turn until the dressing room door is shut firmly behind him. 

His mind is whirling as he chucks his clothes off, hip swaying out of his pants and wiggling out of his jumper. Why is Liam acting like this? Has he done something wrong? Did he upset Liam? Is Liam pissed about something else and wants to take it out on Zayn? What are they even gonna do? Liam said kick his ass, but he doesn't think that that's technically fair. Liam could most definitely kick his ass, and if Liam's holding him down in the process, he may just allow that to happen. 

He's just finished tying his shorts when the door swings open and Liam comes charging in, stomping up to Zayn and roughly grabbing his bare bicep. Zayn's jaw drops open in both pain and arousal, words threatening to spill. Liam speaks up before him though, voice still gravelly.

"Three minutes Zayn, three fucking minutes." He growls, the metal door slamming shut behind them. Zayn tugs his arm out of Liam's grip and stands back, shoving at Liam's shoulder until he's turned and they're facing each other.

"Fuck you, I don't move at the speed of light." He snaps, glaring at the other man. "I don't know what your problem is, I don't know what crawled up your ass and died, but I'm not doing shit until you tell me what's up." He says firmly, holding his ground as he speaks. Liam's intimidating at first sight, he looks like he can kill a man with his bare hands, but Zayn knows the real Liam. 

Liam lifts both hands and runs them through his gelled back hair, and Zayn has to stare pointedly at his face to stop from glancing down at the little sliver of hot tan skin showing again. "I'm testing you." Zayn lifts an eyebrow. "We're going to rerun everything I taught you this month, and I'm your target." Zayn starts to protest, but Liam continues. "If you beat me, I'll give your therapist a good review, get you off the hook, and you won't have to come but once a week for the rest of the year." He says, and Zayn's jaw snaps shut. "If you lose, we continue every day as the usual." He finishes then, crossing his arms over his chest. Zayn stares at Liam's biceps before he thinks it over.

He misses his mates, Danny and Ant teasing him and teaching him their sinful ways, he misses sleeping in on Monday's and skipping Uni classes to go draw graffiti in the city. He misses writing sappy poetry and getting shitfaced, he misses being able to do whatever he wanted without a complaint. He misses so fucking much, school and TV and girls (mainly boys) and junk food and his sisters and his bed and everything, all of it, it's such a hard thing to deny. But then he knows he'll miss Liam the most. He'll miss his stupid face and his stupid eyes and his stupid lips and tongue and jaw and chin and he knows he'll miss Liam's stupid body. His stupid thighs and his stupid ass and the outline of his stup(endous)id dick through his shorts, his stupid abs and his stupid chest hair and his stupid nipples. He'll miss Liam's stupid voice and his obnoxious giggle and the way he says the word rainbow, he'll miss not seeing Liam every day. That's what he's gonna miss the most.

Inhaling sharply, he lifts a hand to slide over his cheek. He needs to shave, a little over a weeks worth of scruff, and he would but he's been so busy with Liam has hasn't had time. "Fine. Whatever. You didn't have to be a dick." He mumbles, turning and moving towards the pantry. He grabs the flour and his gloves, his mouthpiece and tries to ignore the sound of Liam moving around behind him. His throat is dry all of a sudden, and he realizes then that he's nervous.

Not about the moves, he remembers every single one clear as day, he's worried about hurting Liam. The man taught him all of the defense mechanisms towards these moves, so he knows every one Liam's gonna throw at him, and he knows exactly how to block him and get him out. He doesn't  _want_ to though, Liam's so fragile on the inside, he can't lose to Zayn. He slides onto the stage and helps Liam put up the rubber stands, and then they both stand in silence while they fix their gloves. Zayn gets his mouthpiece in and then sneaks a glance to Liam, only to find the younger lad already watching. He slowly looks back down, adjusting the straps of his left glove before he hits them together and then settles his gaze on Liam.

Liam nods, and they both instantly curl in on themselves. Zayn keeps one arm in front of his chest, and uses the other by his cheek, shuffling from one foot to the other. Liam says he needs to focus on speed, because he's fast, quick and distracting, and he's good at throwing punches. Liam slides his feet and levels both of his arms by his neck, narrowing his eyes at Zayn. Liam's strong, more powerful than he is fast, smarter. He's good at blocking, better that Zayn. Liam nods again, slides his foot back and slightly angles his jaw. Zayn shuffles closer, front back, front again, and then Liam glances over and Zayn takes his chance. He swings from his weak arm but Liam sees him coming, which is perfect because as he blocks Zayn's left, he uppercuts his right and gets Liam square in the jaw. The man stumbles back into the rubber ropes, deft fingers coming up to touch at his chin.

It's quick, almost fast motion then. Liam goes through all of their moves, Zayn throwing punch after punch, back kicking a few times and even tackling Liam to the ground at one point. He's pretty confident he's gonna win, and he's not even thinking about what's gonna happen if he does, he's so pumped now. But his last move, a simple one really, him taking his opponent by the wrist and then twisting them around, tripping them and knocking them to the ground, doesn't go as planned. Liam's unmoving, standing in front of Zayn but slightly panting, shoulders shaking and his legs wobbling. Zayn goes to distract Liam with his foot, but Liam reaches forward and grabs Zayn's wrist, fingers cupping it. He makes a small noise in the back of his throat as Liam twists him, spinning him around and shoving him up against the wall. His cheek collides with the rubble, and Liam keeps his arm twisted and pinned to the small of his back.

"Liam, what the fu-" He feels Liam's lips touch the back of his neck, and then he's breathing against the crook of his shoulder, and he smooths a hand down his opposite side, moving to curl his entire arm around his front. He presses his hand against his stomach and then tugs him back, completely taking Zayn's breath away when they're both flush together, front to back. "Liam-" He's stopped again, because Liam chooses that moment to slightly align their hips, and if Liam's hard on wasn't noticeable then, it definitely is now.

Liam carefully releases Zayn's hand, and he presses it against the wall, using it as leverage with his other. He pushes against it and then shoves back, sending Liam grappling as he scrambles back. Zayn whirls around and stares at Liam, eyes wide and lips parted in heavy pants. Liam actually is hard and he wasn't feeling things, his cock thick and tenting up obscenely in his pants. His eyes are dark, nearly black with lust, pupils dilated and his jaw slightly swollen.

He takes a careful step forward, and Liam doesn't move when he stops, so he does it again, only more confident. He steps forward again, and before he can take another step, Liam makes a frustrated noise and lurches forward, sliding one hand into Zayn's hair. He jerks his jaw up and moves the other one to cup Zayn's bum, leaning down to clash their lips together in a rough kiss. It hurts more than anything at first, a deep ache that settles in Zayn's bones and travels up his spine. Liam's sure of his movements though, carefully backing Zayn up until he's pressed against the wall again. He moves to slide his hands around Liam's waist, instantly pushing one hand up under his shirt. He levels himself with a hand on his hip, and then moves the other one up along his spine, over his shoulder blades. 

He pulls back after a moment to breathe, slightly turning his head to gasp against Liam's jaw. "What was tha' for?" He asks quietly, eyes fluttering shut when Liam takes the hint and starts kissing his neck. The other man doesn't answer him, just keeps kissing and sucking at his skin. He can't move for a moment when Liam latches his lips onto his neck and sucks  _hard,_ the pain and pleasure mixing it. His cock fattens in his jeans, blurts out a spot of precum, and Zayn can't even think straight when Liam leans forward to grind their hips together. "Liam," he pleads, and he doesn't even know what he's asking for, he just wants it, wants something.

Liam knows though, drops to his knees in a motion so fast and impressive Zayn has to blink down at him before it registers. When it does though he loses it, throws his head back against the wall and curses. "Fucking hell, Liam." He whispers, his hips jolting forward when Liam nuzzles at his bulge. 

"Been thinking about this, about you, doing so much with you Zayn. Made me so fucking angry 'cause I didn't think you liked me back, didn't think it was even a possibility." He's talking shit, but his voice is rough and deep and raspy and it makes Zayn's knees wobble. Liam reaches up to slide his shorts down, and he bites his lip when his dick instantly springs up against his stomach. "Shit, is there any part of you that isn't beautiful?" Liam asks, and he's about to answer when instead Liam darts forward to lick a thick stripe up his cock, leaving behind a wet trail. Zayn moans, hits his head back against the wall again and lets his hips jerk forward. Liam's fingers tighten in their circle around his girth, and when the younger man squeezes his shaft, shifts to the other side and gets him slobbery there, Zayn whines pitifully.

"Come on,  _jaan,_ don't tease," he begs, and Liam chooses then to finally curl his tongue over the crown of Zayn's dick. He's hard, fat and leaking, and Zayn can't watch but can't look away when he sees his slick on Liam's top lip, sliding over him. He lifts a shaky hand to slide into Liam's hair, and he watches as the younger boy's eyelashes flutter. He doesn't even twitch though, slides halfway down and then pulls back up, hollows his cheeks and then slides back down, wiggling his tongue as he moves. Zayn can't look away, watches as tears clump in his lashes and sees Liam's throat constrict when he attempts to take more. His legs are shaking and everything feels fucking amazing, pleasure vibrating in his veins. 

Liam does end up taking him all the way, slides his hands around his thighs and just holds himself there. He then slowly moves down, adjusts his jaw to Zayn's length and closes his eyes, his lips stretching wider and wider as he nears the base. Zayn thinks he might cry, panting heavily as he stares down at Liam. When he feels himself hit the soft of Liam's throat he moans so loud Liam startles, making a slight gagging sound on his dick. Only he  _stays,_ breathes out heavily through his nose and then looks up at Zayn through his lashes, and fuck if he isn't a goner. "Gonna- shit,  _fuck,_ gonna come, baby," he whispers, carefully tugging at Liam's hair. Liam moans, swallows around Zayn and then pulls off, a small wet sound eliciting around the room when his dick falls from Liam's lips. His release is right there, right fucking there, so close but so far away, until Liam grips him and smoothly begins jerking him. It's fast, sloppy and wet and beautiful, Liam using his mouth and sinful tongue on the head of Zayn's dick.

"What does it mean?" Zayn can't think coherently, much less fucking speak, but he can't just ignore Liam.

"What does what mean?" He grunts, his jaw clenched. Liam hums, nipping at the side of his dick with his teeth, tightening his hold on him. 

"That word you said before," he mumbles, and it doesn't register until after a moment.

"Jaan, christ, it's-" He shoots off then, can't even finish his sentence, his load spilling all over Liam. It gets on his chin and his lips, catches on the skin above his cheekbone, and he gives one last feeble drop when Liam's tongue darts out to taste him. He looks up through his lashes when Zayn finishes, chest heaving and sweat rolling down his temple. He has to keep one hand in Liam's hair to level himself, but he uses the other one to gather some cum onto his thumb and feed it to Liam, slip his finger into his mouth and just watch helplessly as Liam begins sucking on his fingers. "Life. It-It means life." He says, after Liam's released his thumb and is cleaning off his lips.

Liam looks up at him, and Zayn slowly slides to his knees. He leans forward and kisses Liam, darts his tongue out in long strides to lick himself off of Liam's face. He tucks himself back into his pants and cups Liam's cheeks, gives the other man another taste of himself. He's still panting, and Liam is too, one of his hands coming around to fit against his hip. When Zayn drops his hand to Liam's crotch in hopes of returning the favor to find him wet, he grunts out a quiet groan.

"You already-"

"Yeah.." Liam admits quietly. He looks down, swallows thickly, and Zayn rolls his eyes, pressing the heel of his hand down hard enough to feel Liam. The younger boy inhales sharply, looking up at Zayn with a slight frown.

"What?" He asks innocently, slowly rubbing his hand in, grins in satisfaction when Liam slumps forward and slowly begins to harden under his touch.

He's got a month's worth of blowjobs and handjobs and everything in between to make up for, and he's not gonna let some silly little competition get in the way of taking what he wants.

**Author's Note:**

> hope it was good for ya! also, im shit at speaking other languages and this is small i know but if i messed something up, please forgive me, im going off of what ive googled. thanks for reading! xoxo


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